


Unfair

by jupitardigs



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Coping, Deaf Character, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Disability, Drug Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Dick Grayson, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Muteness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, healing serum, prescription sleeping pills, those aren't for you!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 10,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23508097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupitardigs/pseuds/jupitardigs
Summary: It was bright. Blindingly bright. But the first thing he noticed wasn’t the white walls of a hospital. Not the tightness in his throat. Not the face of Jason, his brother, who stared down at him with dark, wet eyes. Not the relief that flushed his face and pulled his lips into a smile.It was the incredible silence.Dick Grayson suffers two major injuries while out on a patrol-gone-wrong. He struggles to deal with his new predicament that has left him permanently disabled.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, more but i can't remember
Comments: 157
Kudos: 462





	1. Shock

It was a sudden, violent pain. A stab of white hot electricity. It reverberated in his chest and rushed to his head. Dick’s legs went numb. The hold on his chest that had pinned his arms behind his back disappeared and he felt himself falling.

Someone screamed.

Dick was laying on his back now, breathing in small, short gasps. The pain had disappeared as quickly as it had come and now, a sweet, warm feeling had settled over his skin. He held this throat with trembling fingers. It felt strange…

There were noises. Shouting. Arguing. Someone was yelling over and over as dark, blurry figures moved frantically above him. The warm sensation rushed through his body. He felt weak and confused. Helpless. He opened his mouth to speak-

But his breath bubbled out from under his fingers...

Wet.

More yelling. More confusion. Dick stared upwards with wide eyes as a figure moved swiftly in front of him. There was confident and vicious laugh and it turned to look down at him, an arm outstretched pointing towards his head.

The concrete to the right side of his face suddenly exploded and suddenly a horrible sound stabbed through the silence in his mind. It felt like his skull was being split in half. Dick recoiled away, screaming in pain. Trying to scream in pain.

Another blast on his other side and the same overwhelming, horrible noise resonated violently around him before... the shouting… the screaming, the noise…. It all faded behind a steady ringing.

He suddenly felt tired. Very, very tired.

Everything started spinning.

A siren started blaring.

Someone was touching him.

Lights were flashing.

Bruce’s face, still hidden under the cowl, crumpled in worry.

Nothing… 


	2. Suffocating

Dick awoke slowly, struggling to push past a heavy blanket of exhaustion. His body felt unfamiliar and heavy, but he forced his eyelids open anyways.

It was bright. Blindingly bright. But the first thing he noticed wasn’t the white walls of a hospital. Not the tightness in his throat. Not the face of Jason, his brother, who stared down at him with dark, wet eyes. Not the relief that flushed his face and pulled his lips into a smile.

It was the _incredible... silence..._

He squirmed upright in bed as Bruce appeared next to Jason. Followed by Tim. Then Damian. They crowded around him with paled, relieved faces.

_Why was it so quiet?_

Dick felt his heart begin to race and his arms prickled. He pressed his hands up against his ears, and turned expectantly towards his family, searching for answers. The relief turned quickly to distress and Jason’s face fell.

_Why didn’t he just say something? Why wasn’t anyone talking?_

Dick lifted his hands from his ears. Nothing changed. He put them back, and then took them off again. Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing!

Anxiety bubbled in his stomach as his movements became more and more frantic. He slammed his hands against his head over and over, trying to shake away the awful quiet. It was thick, heavy, strange.

Bruce reached out to comfort him, placing a hand on his back gently, kneeling down to look him in the face. 

_"It's ok."_ He mouthed. But it wasn't.

_Why wasn't he talking out loud? What was happening?!_

Dick shook off Bruce's hand. 

He took a breath, wanting badly to ask so many questions. But the moment he began to exhale, the moment the breath moved through his throat, a jagged, burning pain ripped through his vocal cords.

His hands flew to his neck as he jerked forwards, trying to cough out of instinct, to dislodge whatever must be stuck in his throat. But the feeling only worsened.

It was a burning sensation. Like something was tearing through his throat. Like he was swallowing fire. 

Dick reached out blindly for someone, grabbing onto a tube and yanking it viciously. The clutter on the table next to him flew to the ground… silently. 

Suddenly, Bruce was gone. His brothers were gone. Strong hands grasped his arms and pushed his torso back onto the bed. Strange faces hovered over him, their mouths moving voicelessly. Dick pulled against the hands that pressed his arms and legs down, trying to scream. Trying to call for help.

It hurt. It hurt so bad.

Bruce.

Jason.

Someone...

In the deafening silence he could make out an echo, sourcing from somewhere deep inside.

It was dull. Barely even a whisper.

But he could hear it.

_His heartbeat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. There is more to come. The next chapter will be from a different perspective on the 'incident'. 
> 
> Please enjoy :)


	3. Reflecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason reflects about _the incident_.

If only he’d been there a little bit sooner.

If only he’d been paying closer attention.

If only he’d have killed those guys.

Jason had let Dick go out on his own, knowing full well that he was investigating a possible lead on Deathstroke. And he knew how Dick got about Deathstroke.

Erratic, frantic, obsessed.

The wrong mindset for a high risk operation.

Dick had only been gone for a couple of hours when Jason received a silent distress call, containing only his coordinates.

Dick only used it when things were incredibly dire.

Jason arrived at the location in what he would call record time. An old warehouse far away from the city.

Dick’s bike lay on it’s side with skid marks in its wake. Bullet marks dotted the ground around the base of the building. One of the doors was wide open.

Jason snuck inside, following a visual trail of unconscious goons, scattered across the ground. As he approached the opposite end of the warehouse, his attention was grabbed by an audible _thunk_.

A heavy feeling of dread settled in his stomach as he peered around the side of the crates.

Dick was on his stomach in a large, brightly lit clearing, his whole body trembling as he tried to push himself up, escrima sticks nowhere to be seen.

Standing above him with crossed arms and a satisfied smirk was a tall, well built man in a black armored suit.

Jason was struck immediately with confusion. That wasn’t Slade. Not even close. He wasn’t tall enough, not muscular enough, not placid enough.

It didn’t matter though. He took a sharp breath, shaking out his arms, before jumping into the clearing.

Jason was very familiar with gunfights, due to the nature of his occupation, and luckily had kept a lot of agility from his time as Robin. He easily dodged the unskilled marksmanship of the remaining henchmen, all while hitting every target he focused on.

“Hold your fire!”

Jason's attack froze as he watched the goons lower their weapons hesitantly, glancing around at one another before turning towards the stranger.

He followed their gaze.

The man had grabbed Dick’s arms and yanked him onto his feet, steadying him against his own chest. Jason froze as the man drew a knife from his sleeve, pressing it firmly against Dick’s throat.

“Red Hood.” The man remarked. “I was hoping you wouldn’t show. Mostly for your sake.” His eyes were dark and serious.

Jason guns were immediately trained at the man's head. He blinked past the green that threatened to eat away at his vision.

“Let him go, you son of a bitch.”

“Uh uh uh...” The man tutted. He pressed the knife closer, getting a hiss from Dick as he tried to push away from the blade. “Gun’s down, Hood. I can call your bluff. tYou wouldn’t want to risk Nightwing’s life, now would you?”

Jason trembled, but didn’t lose his aim.

“I’ve only been sent to disengage a threat. Incapacitate the _Bird_ for a bit.” The man, still watching Jason carefully, jerked his head to the side and there was a shuffle of boots as the remaining of the henchmen regrouped to surround Jason. “I wasn’t sent here to kill him… But I could.”

He spoke slowly, methodically, watching Jason’s every move. Every flinch.

Of course, it was mutual. Jason too watched his advisory carefully. He could tell from the man’s body posture alone that this was a skilled killer. Nothing compared to Slade, maybe even himself, but his own life wasn’t on the line. Jason took a deep breath and straightened, dropping his arms to his side. Any other day, Dick could have easily gotten out of this man's grasp. But whatever battle had occurred before Jason arrived had taken too much out of him.

“What do you want?” Jason asked.

“You really shouldn’t have come.” The man smiled. “Drop your weapons.”

Jason complied.

Almost immediately, the henchmen ran forwards, rope in tow, and began to bind his hands. He grunted as he was pushed to his knees.

“I’m glad we could be reasonable, Hood. I really do.” The man justled Dick playfully, still holding the knife to his throat. “After all, it’s just business.” 

He watched until Jason was completely tied up, before nodding in satisfaction and calling over his shoulder. “Get the hammer.”

Jason felt his heart skip a beat. “What?”

The man turned to look at him again, a devilish grin spread over his face. “Just completing the terms of my contract, Hood. Someone needs the bird out of the city for a bit. Just a little something to keep him out of trouble.”

“So what!” Jason growled.

He paused as someone walked out from the shadows holding a sledge hammer. “Can’t do much patrolling with a shattered tibia.”

Whatever Jason felt in that moment must have been multiplied by a hundred to Dick. His brother completely ignored the threat of the knife as he began to yell, twisting his body back and forth, trying to escape. His eyes reflected pure terror.

The man cursed, wrapping an arm about Dick’s chest to secure his hold.

His hand made a swift motion, horizontal through the air.

Jason felt a rush of cold travel through his body as Dick stopped struggling. He watched as blood went pouring down the front of Dick’s suit, staining the ground beneath him. He watched as Dick fell to the ground holding his throat. Jason screamed.

He felt horribly nauseous. Electricity buzzed in his head as he tried to crawl towards his brother’s body, the same word echoing over and over in his head.

_Dead._

_Dead._

_Dead._

_Dead._

Suddenly, there were hands, holding him still, pressing him into the floor, keeping him away from his brother.

“Dick…” He moaned, his head spinning.

The man collected himself, sniffing indignantly as he adjusted the chestplate of his suit. “Now that was unexpected.”

Jason lost it.

“YOU FUCKER! YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU KILLED HIM!! YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM!!” His voice was breaking. Trembling despite himself. He tried to throw off the weight on his back, only to have more hands grab ahold of his limbs.

The man turned to look at Jason, a wicked grin still plastered on his face.. “Relax. I missed the carotid arteries. Lucky you.” He paused for a moment as he slowly drew a gun from his hip. “But not him...”

Jason felt his stomach drop as he watched the man attentively aim the gun at Dick’s head. 

“No… no no no no… Don’t… Please… Don’t hurt him…” His words slurred unceremoniously, the anger washed away in a wave of pure panic.

The man laughed, turning back to Dick. “I guess it’s easier than breaking his legs.”

“Don’t! Please don’t!” His body felt light. Numb. Untethered.

**BANG**

… He had missed, hitting the ground on the right side of Dick’s head..

But before Jason could breathe a sigh of relief, the man took aim again. 

That’s when it clicked. The moment the second gunshot rang out, as Dick recoiled from the sound again, a strangled, wet noise coming from his mouth, Jason knew what the man had done.

_He lost control._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I spend so long on this chapter....
> 
> Ugh...
> 
> Whelp, there you go. 
> 
> 'The Man' is a nobody character because I am not comfortable with any other DC villains. I needed someone not important, but skilled enough to take down Dick and Jason. Soooo 'The Man'. 
> 
> Don't worry. He won't be around for long.
> 
> Enjoy :)
> 
> (PS I am so sorry for any spelling/grammar errors. I really need a proof reader whose up as late as I am. My writing gets worse every hour after 5:00. 
> 
> That's not true. 
> 
> Maybe.)


	4. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JUST A SHORT ONE!
> 
> Dick starts to process his predicament.

Dick lay quietly in his hospital bed, staring drearily at the ceiling.

Tim had just left. Bruce and Damian had been gone for a couple of hours, out for their night patrol together. Jason sat in the corner of the room with his head down and arms crossed. Probably asleep.

The hospital room was dark now, with the only light coming from a crack under the door.

It made Dick feel sick.

He tapped his fingers on his chest, trying to distract himself with the vibrations that thrummed up his sternum. 

The reality of the situation hadn’t fully set in yet. It felt like he was underwater, just floating weightlessly, where no sound could reach him… 

But then he would take too quick of a breath and send a stab of pain through his throat. Or someone would walk past his door, casting looming shadows onto the walls. And just as quickly, he would be pulled back to the surface. Alone.

Deaf...

Mute… 

The doctors had told him- well, written, that there was a possibility he could get his hearing back, with the help of time, surgery, and hearing aids. But long term cases of hearing loss varied greatly from person to person.

On the other hand, he may never be able to use his vocal cords again without several heavy and risky surgeries. And even then, it didn’t guarantee results.

He could however _whisper_ , given some time to heal.

_Wow. Exciting._

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a deep, slow breath. His heart still thudded in his chest. He wasn’t quite sure if he was hearing it or feeling it, but it’s presence soothed him.

It was something.

He didn’t want to be angry. He didn’t want to feel helpless. He didn’t want to be like Bruce.

But the memory of that cruel, uncaring laugh… The glint of the gun… The cement shattering next to his head… It was still all too vivid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! I wanted to get something posted tonight. I didn't want to leave you guys too long without an update. 
> 
> I'm in a weird place with this story. I don't do chapter books often, so I'm trying to figure out how I want this to be paced and organized. 
> 
> Does that make sense?
> 
> Hopefully something more exciting soon.
> 
> What would you like to see?


	5. Night Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick gets paid a little visit by an 'old friend'.

Dick was suddenly aware of a subtle presence in the room. 

It was sometime past midnight. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but must have drifted off at some point. Jason was still in the same position on the chair. Arms crossed, head down.

But that wasn’t what Dick was sensing. Something was off. He tensed, easing himself into an upright position to better survey the room.

The dull echo of his heartbeat quickened.

The hallway lights had been dimmed earlier that night and Dick found himself blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear away fog from his eyes. The darkness seemed to loom around him. He recognized the corners of the room, the empty space by the door, and Jason in his chair… Everything looked the same… Accept the shadow beside his bed, right where the privacy curtains were folded together.

Dick reached out a trembling hand and gently grabbed a fold of the fabric. 

He paused, as if to try and convince himself he was just imagining things. To just forget about it, turn over, and try to sleep again. 

_No._

_Just do it._

He took a slow breath and prepared to yank back the curtain, when suddenly-

A dark hand reached out and slammed down over his wrist.

Dick jerked his head upwards as a wave of cold rushed through his body. 

There was Slade. Swords glinting in the dark. Gloved hand heavy on his wrist. Staring down at him with his single exposed eye.

He had never felt so vulnerable before. Without a voice… hearing… His vision limited, his body was completely frozen in shock.

They didn’t move for the longest time. Just Dick staring up at the expressionless mask, paralyzed in fear. And Slade, clamping down on his wrist with a vice-like grip.

Dick felt his heart pounding in his ears. Every inch of him just wanted to run. To scream. To fight. His mind spun, trying 

_Why was he here? To kill him? Was he talking to him? Threatening him? Did he know what happened?_

Nausea bloomed in his stomach as he repeated the same words over and over in his head.

_You’re helpless._

_You’re helpless._

_You’re helpless._

Without warning, Slade abruptly let go of his hand, and, as if the movement woke him up, Dick scrambled backwards, falling off the bed and onto the floor. 

In the corner of his eye he saw Jason’s shadow leaping up, awoken by the sound he must have made, reaching towards his guns.

Slade raised his hands passively, acknowledging Jason’s threat, but never talking his eye off of Dick as he slowly backed towards the window. 

Struggling to catch his breath and to come back to his senses, Dick could only imagine what dialog was happening outside of the silence in his head as Jason paced forwards, his gun trained on Slade’s chest. He waved his free arm in an exaggerated movement, as if in heated conversation.

Slade nodded curtly, before climbing out the window and disappearing.

Jason was at his side the next moment, his phone already to his ear (probably to call Bruce). The door burst open and light flooded the room as white coated doctors and a handful of security guards rushed inside.

As Jason ran a comforting hand through his hair, his lips mouthing ‘ _It’s ok. It’s ok._ ’ over and over, Dick was once again horribly aware of how quiet everything was...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to post every other day. I don't know how well it's going to work long term, but I swear I'm going to try.
> 
> It's another short one.
> 
> I needed to get Slade mentioned soon for the next _action sequence_.
> 
> so yeah! enjoy :)
> 
> (Suggestions still welcome!)
> 
> (Thank you DebbieF and Ikuto_Kuro_Neko for participation)


	6. Anger

Slade hadn’t been in the dark hospital room for long before he noticed Richard stirring. He stiffened, disguising himself in the shadows of the curtains, and watched as the boy worked himself to full awareness.

Richard eased himself upright slowly. He looked nervous. Alert. He knew someone was there. Slade watched passively as he slowly turned to survey the room, eyeing every shadow carefully... Then his eyes rested on Slade’s hiding place. 

_Sometimes he was too bright for his own._

A timid hand reached towards the curtain.

Slade didn’t move. It wasn’t a threat yet. Richard was still deciding.

He stared intently into the nervous blue eyes, watching for any signals. If he intended to pull back the curtain then Slade would have to make an appearance. If not, he could leave undetected.

But Slade saw the slow exhale and a sudden glint of determination in his eyes. Before the boy could move, he reached out quickly, clasping a strong hand around Richard’s wrist, watching as recognition and horror spread over his young face.

However, Slade was pleasantly surprised when Richard made no attempt to escape. To struggle or call out for help. He just stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes, completely silent and completely still.

“Compliance, Richard?” He questioned quietly, trying to avoid unwanted attention.

But again, to his surprise, there was no reaction. Richard’s expression didn’t change at the mention of his real name. 

He tried again.

“I heard your encounter with my contractor wasn’t so pleasant.” He noted the bandages around the boy's neck. “I wasn’t too pleased with his methods myself.”

Still, no reaction. Just a blank, terrified stare.

“Can you… hear me, Richard?”

Nothing.

Slade glowered under his mask, a heavy weight settling on his chest. He let go of Richard’s wrist on instinct and took a quick step back, his mind racing.

Richard’s expression suddenly changed as he scrambled backwards off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud noise.

Almost instantly the motionless shadow that had sat passively in the dark stood at attention, guns drawn and trained on him in moments.

Slade raised his hands. “Hood. It’s been a while.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason growled.

“Hmm.” He mused as he backed towards the window, attention still on Richard, who remained pressed up against the wall, obviously distressed. “He can’t hear.”

“No.” Jason narrowed his eyes. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Mute?”

“Probably for the rest of his life.” Jason stopped advancing as Slade reached the window. “Now get the hell out.”

Slade only nodded, giving one last look at Dick, who stared back with an expression of incredible dread.

Jason lowered his gun. “If I see you again, I’ll kill you. You and that son of a bitch you did this.” He spit.

“Don’t bother.” Slade growled as he climbed back out through the window. “I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY!!!
> 
> I know it's a short chapter and it took an extra day!! I just got a little side tracked...
> 
> (I may or may not have spontaneously confessed to the person I like.)
> 
> But here you go. Slade's first (and not last) appearance.
> 
> The truth comes out! He was behind it all~~
> 
> Ok. 
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> _(p.s. we're going on a date after quarantine)_


	7. Haunting Sounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slade did what he came to do.

The temperature had dropped significantly by the time Slade got back to Bludhaven, a cold, light rain settled over the city.

He barely noticed.

Throughout his trip back, the image of Dick with bandages wrapped tightly around his neck, staring up at him with wide, confused eyes, had been stewing in his head.

It was all too familiar.

His fists tightened around the steering wheel.

Louis Black, or _Smoke_ , as his resume had presented, was a martial arts and military trained hitman with experience in killing (weaker) meta humans. He was by no means anything special, but he was good enough that his resume had turned up with Slade’s search.

It had seemed like a perfect match. Someone under ground, unheard of. Not an immediate threat, but one that would catch the boy off guard.

Richard would be unfamiliar with the new advisory, especially vulnerable in that hyper-focused state that Slade’s presence seemed to put him in.

But it seems that he had underestimated Louis Black. Or maybe over overestimated his intelligence.

Slade slowed the car as he neared his destination, a dimly lit street lined with dark, looming apartment buildings.

He parked, exited the car, and found his way to the address.

Slade knocked twice on an unmarked door, leaning forwards to listen closely. 

Nothing. And then light footsteps, approaching the door cautiously. Nothing again. And then gentle, metallic clicks as several locks were undone.

“Wilson.” Louis smiled as he opened his front door, rather inconspicuously pocketing a weapon. “I didn’t expect to be meeting again!”

Slade offered a quick smile. “Let’s go inside, shall we? I have a few questions.” 

Louis’ eyes were cold and calculating, looking Slade up and down a couple times before nodding curtly and stepping aside. “Please come in then.”

Louis wasn’t a fool. He had done what many failed to so; Incapacitate the bird. He had taken advantage of Jason’s affection towards his brother to kill the threat he posed. He did what Slade had paid him to do.

No. Louis wasn’t a fool. But he was stupid. 

He followed the man into a kitchen and then a small open living room. 

“Please.” Louis motioned towards a worn purple couch. “Take a seat. Would you like a cup of tea? The water’s still hot.” He offered.

Slade obliged, taking a seat in the center of the couch, leaning back comfortably and crossing his legs. “Tea sounds good.”

Louis nodded, his lips drawn tight. There was a heavy silence as he returned to the kitchen, retrieving a mug from the cupboard.  
“Green tea? Black? Something herbal?” He asked.

“Surprise me.”

There was a shuffle as Louis rummaged around his counter. He placed the bag in the cup before taking a kettle off the stove. Hot water mixed with dried leaves.

“I specified only a broken leg.” Slade chidded calmly.

Louis paused, before setting the kettle back down on the stove. “Plans went awry. It comes with the business.” He stirred the cup slowly with a metal spoon as he walked back to the living room.

“The injuries are permanent.” Slade took the cup carefully, watching as Louis took a seat across from him, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh?” Louis murmured. “He’ll be out of your hair for good, now.”

Slade took a shallow sip, allowing the warmth of the liquid to overwhelm his senses. 

It was sweet… 

He basked in it, if only for a moment, before leaping to his feet and throwing the cup as hard as he could towards the unsuspecting man.

Louis jumped up as hot water sprayed across his chest. He gritted his teeth as he lunged towards the counter, pulling a small handgun from his hip.

The mug shattered against the ground.

“Nice to see you again too.” He spat.

Slade drew both his swords slowly, spinning them playfully in his hand. “I consider myself a patient man, Black. I realized very early on that things might _go awry_. I was willing to be impartial towards whatever you dished out. Broken ribs. Concussion. Fractured calcaneus. Shattered collarbone.” 

Louis was on his feet again, his gun trained on Slade’s head. “Want me to check those off the list too?” He hissed.

Ignoring the comment, Slade began to walk forwards slowly. “Things happen in the vigilate business. People get hurt. If Nightwing breaks a leg during a fight, that's unfortunate for him, right?” He narrowed his eyes as Louis began to circle. “But do you know what happens when that line is crossed?”

“No. Humour me.” The man joked.

Slade took a quick breath, before ducking down quickly. Louis gun followed him, firing at the sudden movement, but he wasn’t quick enough as Slade leapt onto the coffee then into the air.

By that time Louis recovered and had his gun directed at Slade once more. 

**BANG**

Slade felt the bullet tear through his abdomen. 

Pressure.

Heat. 

Something all too familiar to him. Something he was so used to.

He watched as Louis' eyes widened, mouth agape, as Slade continued his fall, unperturbed and swords glinting.

Metal met flesh. 

Slade’s sword sheathed itself deep into Louis’ shoulder, the force of the landing sending the man’s body to the ground. 

He grunted in pain as his weapon clattered uselessly to the ground.

“What happens-” Slade panted, planting a foot firmly on Louis’ chest, “-is that all the other little heroes come running to their side and it becomes no longer personal. Because of the stunt you pulled, I have the Bats himself on my tail, not to mention the rest of his stupid entourage. My whole plan is compromised.”

“Cut the shit...” Louis barked dryly. “Like you give a damn… about those guys... This is about that kid, isn’t it…?” 

Slade stiffened.

He felt the weight on his shoulders again.

_Green eyes._

_Full of fear._

_Pain. Confusion._

_Trembling pale hands reaching towards him._

_A haunting gurgle._

**_Joey…_ **

Slade wordlessly picked up his other sword and without hesitating, stabbed it through Louis' throat until it punctured the floor.

The man’s eyes widened, arms swinging wildly as he tried to push Slade’s weight off his chest. He sputtered, coughed, heaving loudly as he fought for a breath. The frantic movements lessened as blood pooled out silently around them. Louis' eyes, dulled and loosing life, found Slade’s and he mouthed a single plea... Before his arms fell limply to his sides as his entire body stilled.

He was dead.

Only then did Slade pull his swords out, wiping them out the couch before sheathing them. He pressed a hand against the wound in his gut, which had already begun to close, and made his way to the door.

He had done what he had come to do.

But then why was the weight still there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not.... my favorite chapter.... |:P
> 
> It's hard writing Slade, man! Ugh! 
> 
> Also I can't write fight scenes! 
> 
> it's fine. iiiiit's fiiiiiine.
> 
> I promise the next chapter will be better! It's back to Dick again.


	8. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick has insomnia.
> 
> *drug abuse(?) warning*

Dick took a shaky breath, rolling onto his back and draping an arm over his eyes. He had been in and out of a fever for the last few days.

After the incident at the hospital, Bruce was quick to get him discharged. He was back at the manor the next morning, immediately holed up in his old bedroom, hopped up on painkillers.

Sensing a presence, Dick lifted his arm slightly and peered out into the room.

Alfred stood at the foot of his bed, wringing out a cloth into a small basin.

‘Bruce coming?’ Dick signed. He wasn’t fluent in sign language, only studying it a bit during his time as Robin. Who would’ve known how convenient it would end up? Alfred - on the other hand - was, but he kept his language simple so that Dick could understand.

‘Busy. Should soon.’ He replied, taking Dick’s arm off his face and laying it by his side.

Dick only nodded as Alfred dabbed the cloth on his chest, then neck, before laying it across his forehead.

He relaxed for a moment as it chased the head from his face.

‘Jason?’ He finally asked.

‘Gone home. You want him?’

Dick shook his head. He knew Jason hated to be at the manor, but he really missed having someone closer to his age. Someone who knew his secrets. Someone he could talk to.

Or used to be able to talk to… 

Dick felt a wave of nausea and turned back onto his side, covering his mouth with his hand.

His heart pounded in his ears mockingly.

It wasn't sound. It was a feeling.

He couldn't hear.

Because he was deaf.

Mute.

Deaf. 

Mute. 

Deaf. 

_Mute._

_Deaf_ -

Suddenly, there was a hand on his back, rubbing slow, gentle circles.

It was cool, soft. 

The nausea began to fade, and Dick felt a wave of embarrassment rush through his body. He shifted onto his back again and quickly signed an apology.

‘It’s ok, Master Dick.’ Alfred assured, a modest, almost sad smile gracing his face. He held his hand on Dick’s shoulder for a moment, as if hesitant to let it go.

‘I’m fine.’ Dick signed. ‘Just stress. Just need sleep.’ 

Alfred nodded curtly. ‘I understand. Rest well, Master Dick.’ He squeezed Dick’s shoulder, before picking up the basin, walking to the door and flicking the lights off. He gave one last look over his shoulder, to which Dick had a reassuring _thumbs up_ , before leaving.

Dick waited a few seconds after the door closed, for Alfred to be out of earshot, before lurching upright and scrambling to turn on the lamp next to his bed. He fumbled with the drawer on his bedside table, rummaging through it until he felt the smooth plastic of the bottle.

With stiff fingers he popped the top off and shook a couple pills into his hand, tipping his bed back, and dropping them into his mouth.

It took a couple tries, but he eventually swallowed them dry.

Dick put the bottle back into the drawer, not bothering to put the top back on this time, and slid it closed. He relaxed back onto the pillow, sighing heavily and staring numbly at the ceiling.

Since returning to the Manor, Dick couldn’t sleep on his own. The dark was too suffocating. It weighed heavy on his chest, trapping him in a constant state of fear.

It just made him feel _so vulnerable_.

He had only spent two nights without sleep before the insomnia became unbearable, and with some sneaking around in the early hours of the day, had managed to find a bottle of Tim’s old sleeping pills.

Estazolam.

They were a prescription pill, only supposed to be used short term, and definitely not with other medication.

But they worked.

Yeah. They worked.

Dick swallowed heavily, ignoring the pain that shot through his throat. He just needed to close his eyes. It would be morning soon, then he wouldn't need to worry about it.

Damian would sit by his bed and do homework. Tim would practice sign-language with him, under the watchful eye of Alfred. Jason would text him stupid pictures. Bruce would observe from the doorway, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face.

They would all be there. He would be safe.

He just had to make it until morning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know what to write so i'm just gonna dfiauk foiuafiageifagiefaguefaifgaifg.
> 
> :P
> 
> Remember to stay inside! The more isolating we do, the sooner all this shit blows over!
> 
> thats my psa :/
> 
> uuuhhhhhhhhhhh
> 
> yeah.
> 
> Enjoy ~~~~~~~~


	9. *Notice*

Hey guys, this is just a notice.

I just started a new medication recently and a side effect is that I get pretty sick.

I need to take some time to adjust and I don't know if I'm going to be able to do much writing.

It shouldn't take too long, but I thought I should let you guys know.

Thank you for reading

:)


	10. Deserving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *trigger warning - self inflicted wound*
> 
> Slade goes into Hypovolemic Shock! Wow!

Slade stood at his bathroom sink, starring into his reflection, calmly, a sharp blade resting passively under his chin.

 _"You deserve it."_ A voice echoed dully in his head.

Joey's voice. 

Grayson's voice. 

He couldn't tell... 

_"You need to know how it feels."_

The light glinting off the metal was taunting, almost alluring.

Nothing productive could be achieved by hurting himself, so why...

Slade slowly added more pressure until the blade was biting into his skin, coaxing blood to the surface. Then, with a sharp inhale and a swift, smooth movement, pulled the knife horizontally through his throat.

For a moment, he felt nothing but an incredible chill, like being suddenly submerged in ice water. The blood that poured like a faucet down the back of this throat and the front of his shirt only felt wet and unfamiliar.

Then the pain.

It seemed to climb of from deep inside his body, clawing it's way out, sending jolts of white hot electricity everywhere but no where at the same time. Powerful. Brutal. Crippling. 

A spasm racked his body violently as his legs lost all feeling. He hit the ground hard, gasping for air.

Slade felt a hollow burning in his chest as every breath pulled more and more blood into his lungs. Every inhale cut short by a violent, despite cough to get the foreign liquid out.

As his vision began to falter and nausea bubbled in his stomach, he felt something that he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Fear.

The bathroom blurred in and out of focus. Strange colors and lights danced across his vision. He gripped the edge of the sink with white knuckles and squeezed his one eye shut. There was no cognitive thoughts. No self preserving actions. Just vivid... raw... fear...

Blood began to pour out of his nose and his muscles seized. As another wave of cold crashed over his body and reality became more and more disconnected, a familiar static wrapped around his throat, pulsing and squeezing gently. 

He fell limp with relief, and then unconsciousness.

Slade awoke an hour later, still on the floor of the bathroom, laying in a pool of his own blood.

It was cold. Coagulated.

With an apprehensive touch, he felt his throat. Stiff and itchy from dried blood, yes. But there was no cut. Nothing to show for the pain he experienced. For that moment of terror.

He didn't move for the longest time, lost in his thoughts. Memories of Joey. Of when he had a family. When he first met Richard. Those pointless battles with the Titans.

Slade breathed slowly, as every exhale was accompanied by a coughing fit, spitting out blood clots from his lungs.

He would always survive. Always recover. Always return back from the dead to fight again. He was blessed. Cursed. Who knows? Who cares? What mattered is that he was okay now.

Then the voice returned.

_"...Now you know what to do."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sickness isn't completely gone, but I didn't throw up last night or this morning. So that's good.
> 
> I reaaaallly wanted to get another chapter out. I can't exactly guarantee another chapter two days from now, but if I keep on feeling better, who knows :\
> 
> Please enjoy Slade having a lightbulb moment.
> 
> :))))


	11. Side Effects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important note! Whispering does not use the vocal cords. That is a fact. So... yeah... 
> 
> :p

**Wednesday - 4:30 am**  
Dick woke up nauseous, his mouth dry and lips chapped. Exhaustion weighed heavy on his body and his eyes stayed half lidded, sheltering a headache. He swallowed heavily, despite the pain, and rolled onto his side.

_It hurts so much._

It did. It really did. But Dick squeezed his eyes shut anyways. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to acknowledge the voice in his head. It was too loud. He was too tired.

_It’s ok. Just go back to sleep._

As ominous as it was, Dick knew what ‘going back to sleep’ really meant. With some effort, he turned to his bedside table and picked up the bottle of pills. He shook a couple out, dropped them in his mouth, and washed them down with a sip of water.

He lay still for a few moments, waiting impatiently as chills ran up and down his body, before the pills finally ate away at his consciousness.

**Thursday - 2:14 am**  
Dick jolted awake, panting loudly, his heart thundering in his chest. His skin felt tight and uncomfortable and the twitching had spread to his left leg. 

_You’re in so much pain._

He reached for the bottle again.

_You don’t have to be._

Two more pills to fall asleep again. Two more and the voice would go away. He just needed sleep.

After a few more minutes of tossing and turning he finally succumbed to sleep again.

**Thursday - 4:45 am**  
An intense wave of nausea pelted him awake. 

Dick scrambled out his blankets as his stomach churned. He stumbled weakly to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just as he started to throw up. His body trembled as he threw up over and over again, gasping for air between each gag.

His throat burned, pain stabbing into his consciousness almost mockingly.

Finally the moment passed and Dick fell weakly back onto the wall. He wiped his chin on his sleeve, trying to catch his breath. Tears burned his eyes.

_You don’t have to hurt so much._

Dick sighed shakily, before climbing to his feet and making his way back to his head on unsteady legs.

_Just get it over with._

The pills were still waiting on the bedside table, almost glowing under the dim light coming through his window. His body felt numb as he stared.

_It’s ok. It won’t hurt anymore._

Dick shook his head quickly, trying to clear it. He was tired. He wasn’t depressed. He just needed sleep… 

Three pills this time.

**Friday - 3:56 am**  
Dick was awake again. There was a ringing in his ears. It was quiet, far away, but it’s presence was soothing.

He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling exhausted, but not at all tired. The bed felt warm, to warm. The sheets were stiff and scratchy, clawing at his back endlessly. A chill had settled in the room and his body would shiver uncontrollably on and off.

Every time things started to slip away into darkness, something would jolt him awake again.

_Poor thing._

_I’m sorry._

Warm tears ran down the sides of his face. He hadn’t noticed he’d started crying.

_It’s okay to not want to hurt anymore._

He tried to make a sound. A sob, a whine, anything. But the air just stopped, catching in his throat, sending an ache through his chest.

_Please. You don’t have to hurt. You shouldn’t have to hurt._

“Bruce…” He whispered. It was all he could manage.

_He won’t miss you. He has the others._

Another chill ran through his body and he shivered in spite of himself.

_You’re going to feel better. It’s going to be better._

The pills were in his palm. How did he…? When did he…?

_It’s okay. You just need sleep._

“I just… need… sleep…” He repeated. 

_Yes. You’re okay. Everything will be okay._

The pills were sour on his tongue. He swallowed once. Then again. And again, before his mouth was empty and the lump in his throat was gone. He relaxed, breathed out slowly, and closed his eyes.

“I… just need…”

_Sleep..._

**“DICK!!!”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry!!! I didn't mean to leave you on such a cliff hanger, but then it was too much, and then too little, and then it just made more sense and-
> 
> ...sorry... Don't worry, I've already started writing the next chapter.
> 
> I am feeling a lot better. Still not 100%, but definitely not the -30% I was before.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments from the last chapter! It meant so much! Honestly, I was tearing up reading some of them.
> 
> And everyone else who's supporting this story! <3
> 
> Love you all so much!! 
> 
> Enjoy :)
> 
> xoxoxooxoxooxoxo


	12. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce feels saaaaad :(

_At 4:13 Bruce got an emergency alert from Alfred, location : Dick’s bedroom._

_The hallways in the manor were dark, empty, quiet._

_An unsettled feeling swelled in his gut_

_**'Walk faster.'** Something hurried him on._

_The door to his bedroom was open slightly, betraying only heavy and unsettled breaths._

_He entered, batarangs drawn, ready for a fight._

_He was so wrong._

_The scene was illuminated by the dim light of the bedside lamp._

_It flickered knowingly._

_Dick..._

_Dick lay on the floor next to his bed. Blood flowed lazily out of his nose. Foamy saliva dripped down the sides of his mouth. His eyes were half open, glazed over with a misty fog._

_His body rocked gently under Alfred's hands, pushing rhythmically down on his chest._

_“I’ve called…the hospital… Helicopter on it’s way...” Alfred was breathing heavily. “He doesn’t… have a pulse… I’ve been doing chest compressions… But it’s… in his stomach…”_

_The small white pills laying scattered across the floor…_

_No pulse…_

_No pulse…_

_No pulse…_

_No pulse…_

It was Estazolam. Tim’s old prescription sleeping pill. 

“It was probably over dependence.” The doctor had said. “The pills will eventually start to lose their effectiveness, but people can get addicted. They start taking more and more with side effects like suicidal thoughts, hallucinations, agitation and confusion… etcetera. We’ve pumped his stomach and administered charcoal so he’s stable now, but we’ll have to give a full psychiatric evaluation once he’s awake.”

Dick looked horrible. Skin pale, dark bags under his eyes.

He had been clinically dead for almost five minutes before Alfred had finally gotten a pulse, just as the medical helicopter landed in the courtyard.

Now Bruce watched the vital signs monitors quietly, his mind racing. 

Damian was at his side, clutching the corner of his shirt in a tight fist, staring at the floor with a hard expression. He hadn’t said a word since he had gotten to the hospital with Tim.

Jason was kneeled at the side of the bed, holding Dick’s hand in his own, forehead pressed into the sheets. He was trembling, now and then muttering something under his breath.

Tim sat in a chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest, staring ahead numbly. His eyes were dark.

They sat quietly, no one saying a word, hopelessly lost in thought.

Some time past, before suddenly-

Dick stirred.

Jason was on his feet in an instant as all attention turned to the bed.

“Hey… Hey... It’s ok.” He murmured almost as if to calm himself, resting a trembling hand on Dick’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort.

Dick didn’t open his eyes, but a weak smile pulled at the corners of his lips. 

The group watched quietly as Dick’s hand started to move.

‘Bruce.’ It spelled out. ‘I’m sorry.’

Bruce felt his heart sink. A sharp pain thudded through his chest and he swallowed heavily.

“You idiot.” Jason grabbed Dick’s wrist and pushed it down, holding it against the bed. “Please… Don’t apologize to him…” He begged in barely a whisper.

Dick only shook his head slowly and lifted his other hand.

‘Didn’t mean to. Was an accident.’ His fingers moved slowly, shaking slightly, unsteady and uncoordinated.

Bruce felt himself taking a step forward. He wanted to do something. He wanted to agree with Jason. He didn’t deserve an apology. It wasn’t Dick’s fault.

But his body felt heavy, numb.

Dick’s lip trembled slightly. ‘Careless. Stupid. Selfish’ He stopped signing to tighten his hand into a fist.

Just then, Damian let go of Bruce’s shirt and approached the bed tentatively. He placed his hand on Dick’s, coaxing it open and began to spell something out on his palm, pausing after every letter to let Dick weakly feel the shape of his hand.

The eldest nodded and visibly relaxed. He pinched Damian gently, before letting his head fall to the side, exhausted.

When the heart monitor slowed, and Dick was back deep in sleep, Jason finally moved. He stood up slowly, his arms hung at his side, before turning to face Bruce with red eyes.

“You need to learn how to be a father,” His voice trembled, “Before you lose another one of us.” Every word was laced with anger, fear, hatred. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out of the room.

Tim stood up too, and without looking at Bruce, followed Jason out the door.

Bruce was left standing at the end of the bed, his chest aching uncomfortably. “What… did you say to him…” He asked.

Damian sighed and looked down at his feet, “I should call Alfred…” He turned and began to walk away.

“Wait.” Bruce felt so helpless. “Please. I don’t…” He tried.

Damian paused at the door. He took a deep breath, and without turning around answered.

“I told him… you were scared… for him…”

Bruce was left alone, staring at Dick’s unconscious form, listening to the beeps and clicks of the vitals monitors in an otherwise silent room.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

Dick was so strong. He always tried so hard. He was a big brother for all of the Robins. Someone they could rely on, trust, confide in. 

Bruce wanted badly to be there for them… But he found himself trapped in inescapable darkness. Something that trailed behind him slowly wherever he went.

The guilt, the anger, the sadness from that night. It never left him… It shaped him. Changed him. Made him who he was… 

But now… It was hurting others.

He pressed a hand against his chest as the ache grew, turning away from the bed and leaving the room.

_When Jason returned an hour later to sit at the side of the bed again, Dick was gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE NO IDEA WHY THIS CHAPTER WAS SO HARD TO WRITE BUT IT WAS AND IT"S AWFUL!!!
> 
> Ugh! I really just could not finish this for the longest time! I kept trying and trying and I'm still not happy with it but I really just need this chapter out of the way.
> 
> I don't have much else to say. It was frustrating, but I'm glad it's done.
> 
> Enjoy (if you even can |:P )
> 
> <3 <3 <3 <3


	13. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not going to like this.

Dick didn’t know what time it was when he finally managed to open his eyes again, but it was dark. 

The room was empty and Dick immediately felt a sudden gloom.

He missed Jason’s overbearing presence at his side. He missed Damian’s hesitant comfort and Tim’s watchful, distant eye. He missed…

_Hearing..._

Dick let out a silent chuckle at his own thoughts. Of course he missed hearing. The idea that he would have a constant vulnerability in battle, something so easily exploitable, it scared him half to death. _Literally_ to death.

He had made a stupid mistake...

And now he was starting all over again. The same hospital. The same worried family. The same guilt...

He felt something well up deep inside. Overflowing. Creeping up his throat with a tight burn. Settling in his head like an unwanted parasyte.

_I’m useless._

It wasn’t the same voice as before. It wasn’t a stranger. No. This was him. This was something that had been growing for a long time.

_I keep on failing him._

All at once, Dick felt warm tears spilling over his cheeks. He reached up to brush them away quickly, but hissed in frustration as more quickly followed.

_I’m weak…_

Dick leaned his head back in defeat. Emotions ran rampant inside, but exhausted weighed heavy on his body. He felt so fatigued. 

Feeling normal again seemed like an impossible dream.

_Weak…_

He flinched suddenly as another presence appeared in the room. The feeling was unexplainable. A combination of the shifting floor under the bed and the way the room had to adjust it’s balance. He felt a heat. A weight. A difference.

‘Jason?’ He signed, assuming out of any of them, he would be the most likely to return.

… Whatever reply he was expecting didn’t come.

With some effort, Dick lifted his head again, looking around slowly.

There. At the end of the bed. A looming figure stood impossibly still.

Dick felt his heart begin to race.

‘Who’s there.’ His fingers trembled.

The figure began to move. Slowly. Stepping around the side of the bed. Walking towards him.

Light glinted off of sharp objects, catching on the corners of armor, then drifting lazily over a mask.

Black and orange...

Before Dick could even hope to move, a gloved hand shot out of the dark shoving him back back roughly. One moment there was a needle an inch deep in his arm. 

The next, a horrible foreboding darkness ate away at his vision.

The first thing he noticed was that he couldn’t swallow.

Something round and plastic lay heavy on his tongue, reaching undeterred, down the back of his throat. 

An attempt to remove it led to his second realization. He lay, heavily restrained, on a cold, stiff surface, completely naked save for a piece of loose fabric draped over his waist.

_Upper arm, wrist, upper and lower torso, legs, ankles, neck, head…_

Whoever had put him there knew damn well what they were doing and who they were securing.

Suddenly, Dick felt a horrible combination of fear and anger spiral in his gut as the memories flooded back. 

_Slade_

The man stood off to his left, barely in eyeshot, attention trained on whatever was in front of him.

Dick barely registered that his helmet was off. He glimpsed for the first time a head of pure white hair. And as Slade turned towards him, he saw a weathered, but strong face. A single icy blue eye surveyed him carefully. The other, hidden behind a black eyepatch.

But Dick’s shock was quickly replaced with overwhelming fear.

In Slade’s hand was a thin vial, tipped by a simple hypodermic needle. A strange liquid seemed to glow from inside.

‘Stop.’ He forced his fingers to work.

Slade approached swiftly, undeterred.

‘Please. No. Stop.’ 

The older man worked efficiently. He wiped Dick’s forearm with an alcohol soaked rag, pressed gently on the crook of his arm, applying pressure to the vein. 

‘Stop. Please.’

Slade spared him a single glance, something reminiscent of pity flashing over his expression. He reached over Dick’s head and picked something off the table.

Dick found himself completely blind as a gentle weight settled over his eyes.

His heart beat drummed violently, every nerve prickling in anticipation.

A pinch…

Then...

Fire enveloped his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.... Slade got his hands on our boy... What crimes will he commit!?
> 
> many...
> 
> the answer is many...
> 
> I've found myself in a very familiar place with this book. It's getting harder and harder to write. I don't want it to end, but it has to and I know how I want it to end but the words are harder to find and fhihalfaeiufhaleifhaelfihaefu
> 
> yeah.
> 
> Good news tho.
> 
> I have a sliver of an idea for a new story once this one is done! So that's something to look forwards to.
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> (Next chapter is Slade's POV)


	14. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> needles aren't fun

The serum was modified slightly. Not as strong. Not offering the same sensory enhancements that Slade himself had.

But the process was still very similar.

He watched as Richard breathing slowly picked up, sweat beaded on his chest, then his muscles seized violently.

Slade knew from experience it was painful. Incredibly painful. 

Richard’s fists were white knuckled. His face was rigid with pain, hair stuck to his forehead in wet curls.

And Slade’s gut twisted with the knowledge that it wouldn’t be over soon enough. 

He adjusted the ventilator absentmindedly. It's purpose was for later, when the blood would become an issue, but for now, it allowed him to regulate the boy’s erratic and stressed breathing.

He watched it catch and release, inflating Richard’s lungs and then pulling out a breath. He watched Richard struggle against it. Against the tethers. Against the pain.

Several minutes passed, but it felt like hours.

Finally, the boy’s breathing began to even out. His hands relaxed and the flush of his skin paled.

Slade could not ignore the relief that washed over him, as much as he couldn't ignore the gnawing guilt...

_What came next was so much worse…_

He waited a moment longer, before taking a deep breath and picking up a small metal needle from the utility table.

With a gentle hand, he pushed Richard’s head to the side, so his cheek was pressed against the table.

“I’m sorry.” He said. And he was. But it needed to be done. He needed to do this.

Fingers incredibly steady, he began to slowly push the needle into the boy’s ear. 

Richard went stiff underneath him, his breath catching momentarily at the strange feeling. But, as Slade began to poke farther, he began to panic.

Slade increased the pressure of his hold on Richard's head, pausing the advance for a moment until his struggling had been properly subdued. Then, with years of experience guiding his hand, he stabbed the needle back with a quick, precise thrust.

Richard lurched horrible, immediately jerking his head away. He was writhing again under the restraints, trying to escape from the pain. Slade removed the needle quickly, wiping scarlet tipped head on a gauze.

He watched in silence as the boy fought, gasping in pain, silent sobs shaking his body. 

And then... with a quick inhale and a final tug...

Richard froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uherflsieulhrgsoirughoguhgrsgr
> 
> ugh. 
> 
> Here. Take it.
> 
> I must finish...
> 
> blehhhhhhhh
> 
> love yall 
> 
> enjoy <3


	15. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions decisions...

He could hear.

He could hear and it was amazing.

The pain that rocketed through his skull had been replaced suddenly with a tingling, numbing sensation that rippled along the left side of his face, chasing out the pain and replacing it with…

White noise rushed into his head like thunder. The sound of his breathing, his skin against metal, ambient sounds of a cold, open room.

Dick found himself completely paralyzed as his senses were suddenly overwhelmed. But excitement thrummed in his veins.

He could… _hear!_

“Grayson?”

The moment of strange, intense bliss was cut short by a wave of panic as Slade’s voice slammed into his head like a bullet.

Dick didn’t move for a moment, before finally mustering the courage to nod slightly.

“It worked…” Slade breathed. He didn’t sound shocked, but rather, relieved.

Dick flinched as he felt the fabric over his eyes shift. Light bled under the edges and soon the white glow overpowered his vision.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the blindness away. 

“I’ve given you a modified version of the Mirakuru healing serum.” Slade began. “It won’t give you everything I have, but as long as your brain is intact, every injury you get will heal. However,”

Dick listened intently as Slade moved around him, to his other side. His heart thrummed in his chest. 

“The serum only works on injuries garnered after it’s administered. If the injury is reopened or re-inflicted, the wound should heal correctly.”

His head was pushed against the table again by a strong hand.

‘Wait.’ He tried.  
“The pain is temporary, but hearing will hurt less. Hold still.”

‘Please wait.’

Dick felt the needle again. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm his nerves. Trying not to hyperventilate.

Once again, Slade was quick and efficient. 

The pain jolted through his head and jumped around like a ping pong ball, before an almost pleasant buzz overcame it.

Once again, a wave of sound completely enraptured his attention. 

And once again, the amazement was quickly snuffed out when Slade murmured quietly, “Now, your voice…”

.  
.  
.

Dick held a steady gaze, but his heart thrummed under his chest. ‘Stop.’ He signed.

The knife was cold against his throat. It was all too familiar. But he didn't back down. He didn’t close his eyes. Warm tears ran down the side of his face and his body shivered violently.

“Don't worry.” Slade replied, almost casually. "You won't asphyxiate this time. The ventilator will keep your lungs clear."

'Please.'

"I'm sorry." It was monotone. Emotionless. “I have to.”

Dick struggled to swallow around the plastic in his throat. ‘You don’t.’ He tried, stiffening as the blade pinched harder into his skin.

"Yes I do."

'You don't.' He repeated.

“Just let me do this.” Slade's voice trembled just slightly. But Dick heard it.

‘Don’t do this. I don’t want it.’ His hand ached as he carefully spelled out each word, blinking tears from his eyes as they came.

Slade narrowed his eyes. “You need this. You need your voice. You can’t have a vulnerability like that. It’s too risky!” He sounded frantic. Torn.

‘Please.’ Dick closed his eyes weakly. ‘Just let me have this choice.’

There was a moment of silence. Suspenseful, awful silence. Then, the knife was gone.

Dick felt himself falling incredibly limp.

One by one, the restraints began to loosen and Dick finally realized truly how tired he was. How heavy his body felt.

The sensation of the tube being pulled from his lungs was not a pleasant one, but the freedom after felt amazing.

He slowly sat up, ignoring the protest from sore and weakened limbs and Slade’s watchful eye.

“You looked just like him.” Slade murmured. “In the hospital. I couldn’t… I did that to you. I hired that man. I payed him and-.” He fell silent, handing Dick neatly folded blanket which Dick didn’t hesitate to drape over his shoulders, basking in its warmth. 

He looked up at Slade, exhaustion dulling any fear he should have been feeling. ‘Thank you for trying.’ He slid off the table, bare feet on cold ground. ‘I… can’t go through that again.’

Slade shook his head. He was quiet for a moment. “No. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” He pressed his thumb on the bridge of his nose. “I… The door’s over there. Get out of here before I change my mind.”

.  
.  
.

Sunlight has just begun to shine over the tops of buildings when he stepped outside, bathing dark streets in orange. He closed his eyes as the wind whipped through his air, carrying the distant sounds of cars, of the ocean, of life.

It was so strange, but so familiar. It was amazing.

His attention was interrupted as something whisked overhead. He looked up, shielding his eyes from the glare. A dark shadow fell from the building, landing in front of him with a silent thud.

Bruce stood up slowly, his expression shadowed under his mask. “The tip was right, Red Hood. He’s here.” Dick could hear the radio static from where he stood.

‘Are you ok?’ Bruce signed.

‘Yes. You have no idea.’ 

Bruce’s expression didn’t change, but Dick could sense his curiosity.

‘Bruce. I can hear.’

The dark figure was silent for a moment, trying to process what he had just read.

‘You can he-’ He started. But Dick reached out, grabbing Bruce’s hand and cutting him off.

‘Bruce.’ He tried again. ‘I can hear.’

Another moment of silence. Before Bruce cleared his throat. “You can hear?”

Dick smiled.

“How? How is that possible? What happened? I-”

‘I’m ok. I promise.’ Dick signed back. ‘A little hungry, though.’

“Dick. I-” Bruce swallowed heavily. He pulled the cowl back, and Dick felt himself freeze under the intense, icy stare, suddenly incredibly nervous.

“I’m sorry.”

_What?_

“I was so scared. When I saw you… hurt... I just shut down. I couldn’t lose another one of you. I wanted to be there for you but, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to be there for you.” He placed a warm hand on Dick’s shoulder and smiled ever so slightly. “I’m so proud of you. I always have been. You’re so strong, but I can’t help but be worried for you. I just… wanted you to know.”

Dick hadn’t realized that he had started to cry until the tears began to fall. He tried to scrub them away, not wanting to look any more pathetic than he already did. But without any hesitation, Bruce only wordlessly enveloped him in a hug.

The shock lasted only a moment, before Dick melted into the embrace.

It was _so warm…_

They stood there for a while, not saying anything, not making any attempt to move. Just being happy and safe together.

“Bruce!” Dick finally let go, looked up as Jason grappled down from who knows where. “Is he ok!? What happened!?”

Jason landed awkwardly, stumbling forwards to grab Dick away from Bruce, and into a second, but much stronger, hug. “You stupid fucking idiot. Why did you have to… Idiot...” His voice trembled and he didn’t let go for the longest time. 

When he finally let go, he turned to Bruce quickly, crossing his arms in mock frustration. “Well? Answers?”

Bruce smiled knowingly. “Why don’t you ask him?” He replied, nodding at Dick.

‘I can hear again. Surprise!’ He added a timid _jazz hand_ to the end of his sentence.

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion obvious on his face. He blinked once. Twice. “What do you mean you can… you can hear?”

Dick nodded.

“He can hear?”

Bruce nodded.

“No that’s… Oh my god…” Jason's hand flew to his head as he slowly knelt to the ground. “No. No. Wha-... How? Why?”

Dick knelt down next to him, still clutching the blanket over his shoulders. ‘It’s a long story. Really long.’ He looked up at Bruce as he continued. ‘And I really wouldn’t mind discussing it over a nice meal…’ He paused to look down and then back up again. ‘And with actual clothes.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. God!!!! this took so long!!!
> 
> I dont even know how i survived this. So much editing. So many late nights.
> 
> Good news, I have a pretty concrete idea of what I want to write for my next story.
> 
> Bad news, ughhhhhhhhhhhhh brAiN HuRt :(
> 
> Alright. Man. Still one more chapter to go. 
> 
> Hang in there!
> 
> Love you guys so much!
> 
> xoxoxoxox
> 
> Enjoy ~


	16. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick realizes.

“Alright Goldie.” Jason crossed his arms, a serious expression plastered on his face, but still looking a bit antsy. “Once a week equipment checks. Call in every day. If anything happens - AT ALL - you have to tell us, or Bruce is taking you back.”

Dick stuck out his tongue playfully, falling onto his couch with a satisfied sigh. ‘Aye aye, captain.’ He signed sarcastically.

Jason shook his head, leaning up against the wall with a scowl. “You’re worse than Damian sometimes. Ok. You’re all set up, everything here, I've briefed you several times… I’m gonna go.” He straightened.

Tilting his head up to peer over the back of the couch, Dick smiled. ‘Thank you, lil bird. I appreciate it.’

Jason looked away quickly and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to the pampering. Bruce is just riding my ass about this.” He pushed off the wall and started walking away, Dick watching with a small grin. 

As soon as the door shut, he jumped up, grabbing his suit off the table and running to his bedroom.

Everything was in its place. All the weapons, all the trophies, all the memories. 

He got changed quickly, testing out the new additions (gadgets meant to aid in communication), before pulling open the window and climbing out onto the fire escape.

The wind was cold, refreshing, blowing through his hair, coaxing him towards the edge.

He jumped up on the rail, steading himself with one hand holding the steps above him. With the other he upholstered his grappling gun

In the distance, a siren began to blare. Red and blue lights, reflecting off the looming walls of the buildings, sped through busy streets. The wounded city called out to him.

Dick closed his eyes, took a deep, wonderful breath, and jumped.

His body was in free fall for only a moment, before the harsh tug of a well placed line pulled him into a tight curve. 

He swung his legs forward, tight and precise, swinging into the next shot, watching as the it caught on a building, and loving the way his stomach did flip-flops as he let slack take the line again.

As the air whistled past his ears he couldn't help but shiver as it reverberated through his head.

He grinned, joy bubbling in his chest, but even then, his eyes still stung.

It was different. It would always be.

He couldn’t pick fun at blundering henchmen. He couldn’t nag his brothers relentlessly. He would call for help. He couldn’t laugh. He couldn’t sing.

His voice had been everything. For so long.

It was different.

But as a single tear fell from his face, lost almost instantly to the wind, he remembered what Bruce had told him that night. He remembered Jason’s warm hands, Tim’s nervous presences, Damian’s subtle worry. He remembered an enemy, so destroyed by his past that he had no confidence that Dick would be able to live at all.

And as Dick landed in the darkness of an alleyway, quickly garnering the attention of a group of everyday street thugs splitting the gains of a successful drug trade, who drew an impressive array of cheap weaponry from who knows where, he knew that it didn’t matter.

He was strong, charismatic, _sexy_. He had a family that loved him. Friends that cared. A city that needed him.

He was Dick Grayson. An orphan. An acrobat. A son. A sidekick. A leader. A vigilante. A hero.

He was Nightwing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I'm kind of sad it's over. I had fun writing this.
> 
> Ok. So to address a couple comments/concerns.
> 
> Originally, Dick wasn't going to get his hearing back at all. I didn't want it to seem like being deaf is bad. I'm sure in this wonderful universe, there are many ways to get around it. I really wanted Slade to be able to explain why he was doing what he was doing, so I gave Dick back his hearing.
> 
> Yes, it's sad to imagine Dick not being a mouthy sexy brat, but you can imagine that he gets his point across very well with ASL (if the villain is unlucky enough to know it).
> 
> I love Dick. He's a beautiful, smart, strong baby. And I wanted to write his strength into a fanfiction. (and get a little of that Slade/Dick dynamic) (yum)
> 
> I hope I did a great character and a great universe justice. Thank you EVERYONE who has been reading and commenting. It's been fun recognizing usernames over and over. <3 <3 <3 (you all know who you are)
> 
> Alright. Hopefully I can get the first chapter to my next story out soon.
> 
> Thank you again.
> 
> xoxoxo


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